


Sometimes

by Khylara



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, mention of Canton's husband
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 16:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1824316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khylara/pseuds/Khylara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes when it's late at night and he's alone, Canton dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

Sometimes when John is working the night shift at the hospital and I’m sleeping alone, I dream about him.  I dream about the Doctor and that fantastic blue box of his. I remember it appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the Oval office, right in front of Nixon and that idiot Peterson and the rest of the President’s dubious protection detail. I remember the disbelief, the heartstopping breath of panic I felt when I ran into it for the first time.  I wonder where he is, what he’s seeing, what he’s doing.  I wonder if Amy, Rory and River are still with him, travelling the stars and all of time, the four of them having all sorts of impossible adventures. I wonder if he’s all right, if he’s safe, if he’s happy.  I wonder a lot of things at three in the morning when I’m alone and can’t sleep.

 

By the time he left me standing with Nixon in the oval office after everything was over I was already half in love with him. Would have been even more so if I hadn’t been reminded so forcefully that my heart belonged to someone else. And I don’t wish it didn’t – not for a single moment.  John is the best thing that ever happened to me and I love him with everything I have. And I know he loves me just as much – the ring on my finger and the vows he whispered into my ear when he slipped it on me are proof of that. All the proof I’ll ever need. 

 

But sometimes when it’s late and I’m sleeping alone – sometimes I dream about The Doctor. I dream and I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to travel with him in that strange, wonderful contraption of his. And sometimes when it’s even later and I can’t sleep I wonder what it would have been like to love him. To be loved by him. To look into those older than time blue eyes of his and loosen that ridiculous bow tie and let myself become lost in his voice, his touch.

 

Those thoughts never come when John is with me, loving me with everything he has and then some.  They don’t dare intrude when the man I choose to call my husband has his arms around me, or when he’s kissing me breathless or telling me just how much he cares about me.   They certainly don’t come when we’re making love.  And even if they tried to – which they don’t – I would never let them.

 

Whenever they do come, I make sure I don’t tell John. He knows about The Doctor and my little part in saving the world from The Silence on the day America landed on the moon, what the four of them did to save my job, my career and probably my sanity. I’m sure he has a dozen different questions with a lot of them beginning with why, but he never asks. It’s possible that he doesn’t want to know and he’s hoping that if he doesn’t mention it, I’ll forget and things will go back to how they were before.

 

And they have, for the most part.  We’ve gone back to being just as much in love with each other as we were before, with hardly anything changing between us. Except I never tell him about the dreams, even though he probably already knows. It’s not that I’m ashamed of them or wish things had been different, because I don’t.  I never would. But every couple has secrets they keep from each other and while we have fewer than most, I know he has one or two. And I certainly have mine. But I keep them and I will continue to keep them, not only because they’d hurt John if he ever found out and I don’t want to do that, but because the dreams never surface when we’re together.

 

They only come when I’m alone. When the house is dark and the other side of the bed is cold and I’m trying to fall asleep but I can’t.  On those nights, sometimes I dream about The Doctor and that incredible blue box of his. Sometimes I think about the silent promise I saw in those blue eyes of his right before he left me. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever see him again. 

 

And sometimes…sometimes I let myself hope I do.

 


End file.
